From Age to Age
by Iona Nineve
Summary: In the long life of Henry Morgan there is one constant. It follows him though love; from age to age; through years spanning into decades. The kind companion, the light-footed reply to music's call, dance. A series of flashback scenes involving Henry and dancing. Stand-alone companion piece to Dancing Through the Ages.
1. First Steps

**Disclaimer: I still own absolutely nothing.**

 **Author's Note: This is a companion piece to Dancing Through the Ages, though it can stand alone. Yes, it took awhile but I finally got around to writing this.**

 **I've got a general layout as to how this will go, but I will take suggestions. Your comments are as always appreciated. Enjoy!**

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First Steps

~1786~

A sweet music floated through the corridors of the Morgan household. The sound emanating from the harpsichord in the corner of the drawing room had attracted the attention of a young curly headed boy, his wide brown eyes intent upon the figure whose fingers graced the keys as she swayed slightly to the melody.

From the other entrance came a man who, also apparently drawn by the music, approached the woman seated at the instrument. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered something that made her laugh, a warm high musical laugh. After another whispered comment, the music stopped as she accepted his proffered hand with a soft giggle. The silence was now filled instead with the slight creaking of floorboards under their steps. Now in the center of the room the pair danced in that casually intimate way of married couples.

Unbeknownst to them, the young boy watched, fascinated, his parents turn helded in each others' arms. He tore his gaze from the enchanting scene only once, to share a look of disgust with the portrait of a sour looking man in the corridor as the pair fell into the thrall of each others' eyes and lips.

Hesitantly he looked back into the room, to find his father exiting the way he had come. His mother gazed about the room, as though finding her bearings. Her gaze alighted upon, mostly hidden behind the wall; her small smile widened.

"Henry." She exclaimed her discovery. Her voice dropped to a tone of near secrecy. "Come here, darling."

Obeying, Henry came to his mother, intrigued by the promise of her tone. He stood before her expectantly.

"Would you like to learn how to dance?" She asked, still in that conciliatory tone.

Momentarily his decision balanced between the boyhood compunction to answer that he'd 'much rather go out and catch toads' and the intrigue of being taught to dance as he had seen adults do at parties. Finally, he responded, ever trying to be the young gentleman, "Yes, mother, I would."

"Very good, let's begin."

His attempt at mature restraint of childish excitement failing, his request burst from him. "Could I learn how to dance like you and father?"

A small giggle escaped her in response to her little boy's question. "Perhaps when you're a little older and taller, my dear." He deflated slightly, she gave a comforting pat of his untamable curls. "How about I teach you the minuet instead?" She proposed gently.

Henry looked up, a joyful gleam in his eyes, nodding vigorously in ascent.

"Alright then. We begin facing each other." She straightened while he shifted his footing to face her, a few paces between them. "Now, you bow as I curtsy." While she dipped, skirts held out, he bent at his waist as he had been taught. They then continued on with the dance.

Taking the small boy's right hand with her left, she guided him through the repeated step. "Step with your right, then bring your left to meet it at the ankle and dip-" Upon attempting the step, Henry lost his one-footed balance and wobbled dangerously. "Careful darling, stead there." She tightened her hold on his hand to support him. "Let's try that again. Alright?"

He nodded, resolutely.

"Right foot forward." She made the motion and he followed. "Left together. Good! Now, lift your left foot to your ankle." He hesitated. "It's alright, I've got you." He managed to perform this with minimal loss of balance. "And slowly bend your knees a bit. … Wonderful, darling! You're a natural." He responded to his mother's praise by looking up at her with a crooked grin. "Can you do it again though?" She asked, teasingly skeptical.

"Of course!"

"Let's see then."

Without her aid, he maneuvered the first two steps. After which he threw a satisfied look, chin up proudly, toward his mother, causing her to laugh heartily at her little boy's antics.

"What's next?"

"Then we take three quick steps: left, right, left. And repeat it all." Once he had become familiar with the simple steps, she retracted her commentary and hummed the high, sweet, and slow melody of the dance as they proceeded.

So began a tradition between the two of learning, practicing, and enjoying the dances of the era. A tradition which would last for years to come, especially as a way to fill the emptiness of the house when the elder Morgan man was away on business.


	2. Reluctant Attendance

**Sorry this took so long but this proved harder to write than I thought. As anyone of you who have tried it knows, it's a killer to write for a character you know almost nothing about (the character in this case, Nora Morgan). It didn't quite turned out how I wanted, so hopefully it worked out.**

 **No that I've vented I wanted to thank those you followed and favorite, and especially superlc529 for the review.**

 **I do, and will continue to, own nothing.**

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Reluctant Attendance

~1809~

Doctor Henry Morgan, having a fully established practice in London, rarely spent time elsewhere. If not in the small room at the back in which he lived, he could be found at the nearby gentlemen's club. One day a letter came.

 _My dearest Henry,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. All is so with us at home. Your work must be keeping you busy for we haven't seen you in months._

 _The Hamptons are having a ball in a fort-night for their youngest daughter and I do wish for you to join your father and I in attending. Please come, if for no other reason than to give a mother oppurtunity to see her son.._

 _We shall bring the carriage to your practice on the evening._

 _Your loving mother,_

 _Georgina Morgan_

 _Postscript: Know that I will not stand for any of that sudden illness nonsense you claimed the last time._

Henry placed the letter on his desk. He detested balls and parties, particularly since the judging forces had decided he was too old not to be married. The pompous windbag-ish old men had claimed him into bachelorhood, while women threw him at their eligible daughters in the attempt to 'save him from a life of loneliness'. He therefore avoided such occasions and was reluctant to attend this one.

Sure enough, the fort-night passed and a carriage pulled up in front to collect him. His mother had made it quite clear that he was going, whether he wanted to or not. So dressed for the occasion he joined his parents in the carriage, which then made its way out of the city.

"How have you been, dear?"

"Quite well, mother, thank you."

"How is that medical practice of yours going? Looks rather small." His father inquired.

"Also well." In truth, more often than not he was paid in eggs or promises of services to be rendered (a shave, a repaired boot, etc.), if he were paid at all; however, the business and gratitude of the wealthier patients was enough to pay the rent. But his father did not need to know this. "And how is the shipping business?"

The remainder of the trip was filled with tales of the troubles and successes of sea trade. "Are you sure you don't want to continue the family business, Henry?" His father finished, with the ever-common question.

The elder Morgan had been immensely disappointed when he'd expressed his wish to follow a profession in medicine, instead of taking his place as the the only son and heir to the family business. "Yes, father. I am quite happy with-"

"Oh look, we've arrived." She cut off her son before the paternal/filial argument could erupt again. Once within the hall of the Hampton estate Henry tried to escape to some secluded corner, perhaps he could find the library, he was halted from entering the bustling crowd by a grasp upon his arm. "Don't think you're escaping, darling." She said, releasing his arm she patted it making it clear that he was still snared. Barred from fleeing he accompanied his mother, his father having departed to talk with a herd of married men in the corner, to the clutch of mothers and daughters. They were warmly greeted by the flock of gowned individuals. He was finally released, having promised a dance to most of them.

Now a freeman, he wandered the scantily inhabited areas of the hall. "Morgan, what are you doing here?" The youngest of the Thompson brothers asked snidely, stopping in passing.

"I was invited, Thompson. Were you?" The feud between the families may have ended with that duel, the tension however hadn't.

"No need to get offensive, now. Of course I was."

"Good evening, then, and goodbye." Henry finished, with a distinct lack of goodwill toward the man, as he turned from him.

" _Vale_ to you as well, Morgan." Thompson called as he reentered the milling herd, his sarcasm lost on neither of them.

The dances soon began, opened and announced by the young Miss Hampton. From here also began the string of ladies with whom he was obliged to dance. Having fulfilled these he was about to retire to the card room, and would by chance be allowed to forgo the game, when his mother's whisper once again came from his side.

"Why don't you ask Miss Hampton for a dance?"

Looking out over the ballroom he saw the young woman, for whom the ball had been held, already on the arm of another man. "She is at the moment otherwise engaged, Mother."

"Not Moyra; Nora, her sister, seated in the corner there. I've never seen a girl sit longer at a ball in all my life, the poor thing. Do be the gentleman, Henry."

"Yes mother." He crossed the room to the corner where Nora Hampton sat; her train pinned up to signal her interest in dancing. Standing before her, he presented his hand with a shallow bow. "Might I have the honor of this dance, Miss Hampton?"

"You may, Dr. Morgan." She replied, taking his hand. As they began to stroll to the ballroom she spoke again. "You shall have to forgive my dancing, Doctor."

"I am certain you are a fine dancer, Miss Hampton. I trust your evening has been well."

"It is kind of you to ask. Yes, quite well." She spoke with a small smile, that revealed her polite lie. They joined the dance. "You have not yet called upon my sister?" She asked curtsying in return to his bow.

"No, I have not. And I believe her time will be occupied by more interested parties." He said as the four couples circled to the right.

"Did you not come to find a interested party yourself?" She inquired, unsuccessfully hiding her curiosity, on the circle's return to the left.

"That was certainly my mother's intention in demanding my attendance." He admitted. She bowed her head shortly, suppressing a smile. He was surprised by his own loquacity, already he had spoken to her more than any other of his partners that night.

The only point of repetition in the dance was a series of quick, complicated, footwork; to be repeated after each varying segment. It was here that her step first faltered. The ladies came into the center as the circle turned about, the men then did the same.

As they continued into the promenade, he ventured a query of his own. "At the risk of broaching topics of a personal nature; are you not betrothed, Miss Hampton?" What prompted him to ask this he was at a loss to know, but he found himself very interested in the answer.

"Regrettably not. I am the object of no man's attentions." Her own admission, an unfortunate one for a woman of her age, came with another bow of her head.

"I beg your pardon. I pray I have not offended."

"Absolutely not." She assured, somewhat breathlessly. They were separated by the requirements of the dance, passing each person in a chain of interlocking hands around the circle. Credence was lent to her prior warning, as she was prone to getting her hands confused as she was guided by the others through the vining dancers. Her skills lacked somewhat, he suspected from common unuse, but it detracted nothing from her charm. Once she had been returned to him they turned in place right hands held. "I hear you are quite an accomplished physician for a man of your years."

Switching hands as turned the opposite way. "I appreciate the compliment."

"A fascinating profession." She continued, watching with studious intent as two of the couples entered the center and joining hands and spun.

"I had no idea you had an interest in the medical science." He replied intrigued by her statement. They joined the couple across from them in the center and likewise revolved.

She looked for a second positively mortified, before calming into self-reproach. "I fear I have revealed my fault."

"Fault?" He questioned, as they interlocked hands behind them and turning in place. "I see none."

"You are too kind. I am aware of what they say, I have too much in my head." She admitted as the four-couple circle made a half turn and returned.

They ended the dance as it had begun, with a bow and curtsey. "Intelligence is a trait I much admire." He stated, straightening. The mind for which she was faulted was in fact not the only trait she possessed which he admired, though propriety held him from expressing such thoughts.

"I wish to thank you, Doctor. You are the only partner I have had this evening." He led her slowly across the room, reluctant to bring an end to her companionship.

"It was truly my greatest pleasure. There is no one with whom I have enjoyed dancing more." Somewhere during this dance Henry, the bachelor doctor, had lost his heart to this woman; and she hers to him.

"That is a most fantastical assertion." She said, slightly doubtful of him.

"Is it?" Henry challenged. By this time he had brought her to her former seat, yet both still stood. "May I ask for the honor of dancing with you again?"

"Dr. Morgan, such a request demands the intention of calling upon me on the morrow. Is that your intention?"

"Absolutely."

"Then, you may. And do call me Nora, Doc-"

"Henry, please." He proffered in return.

Her face blushed slightly. Looking away from him momentarily she noted the two pairs of watchful eyes upon them. "I do believe we are being watched."

"By your mother or my own?"

"I should say both."

"Let us give them something further to watch, shall we?" He suggested, a rather impish smile upon his lips. "Do you have escort to dinner?"

"I am without one." She sat down, their hands still connected. "And I would be honored to accept your company."

"It would be my honor, Nora." It was only now that he finally released her hand. He was very glad that he had come, however reluctant he had been. To the woman now seated happily on the chair, anticipating his return, her own prior reluctance seemed senseless. Later, the two families were only too eager to arrange the enamored pair into engagement, with a speed suitable to their wishes.

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 **Notes: _Vale_ is Latin for "be well", as educated men they would both have learned the language and understood this.**

 **As always I would love to read your thoughts.**


	3. Sudden Closeness

**Disclaimer: If I owned this show it wouldn't be on the list of shows that ended way too soon.**

 **AN:Sorry this took so long to get out, writer's block and life teamed up against me. Thanks for the reviews I've gotten so far. Hope you all enjoy this one.**

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 _Sudden Closeness_

~1864~

Having been betrayed and abandoned by the woman he loved, Henry thought his heart had grown cold to the emotion. That is until it had been melted by one Anne Peyton, a nurse at Charing Cross Hospital. She had also, with great effort on her part, convinced him to accompany her to the hospital's winter ball.

It was thus he found himself entering an emptied room of the hospital, a beautiful woman on his arm. During his three years of working there he had yet to attend a single of the semi-annual balls held for the hospital staff. The peculiarity of this did not go unnoticed.

"Morgan, never thought I'd see you here."

"Truthfully I never thought I'd come. But I was convinced by this lovely lady on my arm."

"Good old England had better prepare for war. I was certain that your persistent abstinence from these affairs was the single force keeping us out of that trouble in America."

"Well let us hope I was not." The small orchestra, made up of a few musically talented staff members, played a few warning notes. "Now if you'd excuse me, and if the lady would accept my company," she nodded at his side, "I do believe the music is beginning." With a nod of farewell Henry led Anne onto the dancefloor.

"That was dealt with quite nicely." She admired as they walked.

"I've had a lot of practice." Henry provided elusively.

"Are you in the habit of shocking people, Henry?" Anne teased, though it was half a sincere query.

"No. But for not making it a habit, it happens quite often."

"Am I going to be shocked this evening?"

"Perhaps. But I must warn you I'm unfamiliar with the popular dances."

"You can dance, of course?" She asked.

"Absolutely. Though, you'll have to teach me this one."

The music had now begun playing out the lively melody of a polka. She took his left hand in her right, and removing her left hand from his she took hold of her skirt. "Come on, put your hand around my waist." She said, rather confused by his lack of action.

"Are you quite sure?" He asked, nearly aghast. Never would he have presumed to hold a woman, to whom he was not married nor formerly engaged, in so intimate a manner. Times had certainly changed since he had last attended such an occasion.

"Henry, I knew you were old-fashioned, but truly! Were your parents puritans?"

"No, they were not. They were simply… very Georgian in temperament." He explained, not sure how reply to such a statement and not a practiced as he should be by that time at the art of evasion. After a short hesitation, he tentatively reached out and placed his hand upon the corseted curve of her waist. She stepped closer so that her skirts just brushed his leg, forcing his hand further around her to the small of her back. "Now what?"

"The step is simple. One, two, three, and, one, two, three, and, one, two, three." Anne moved in place along with her words in the leaping steps. After the second repetition of the four words of instruction Henry quickly picked it up.

"I do believe I have the jist of it. Now, shall we dance?" Without awaiting her reply he took her off in flight across the floor. The gliding turns of the dance caused Anne's blue skirts to billow out. Around them the other couples were likewise in engaged in motion, resulting in the appearance of so many colorful dervishes whirling about.

"You don't suppose we will, do you?" She asked, some concern showing on her face. When he returned the question with a befuddled glance, she elaborated. "Join the trouble over there, I mean?"

"No, of course not." Henry assured, she was visibly relieved. However, his personal thoughts on the matter were more complicated. But so light an atmosphere was no place or time for such serious matters as war, or love. "Now, enough of this. It's a lovely evening and we are together, let us enjoy it." He swept her into slightly more vigorous dancing, causing her to giggle quietly.

She was grinning up at him gleefully, her cheeks rosy from the exertion or perhaps the giddiness of the school-girl she had once been. Seeing her so happy, her hair slowly becoming loose as they turned strands falling around her face, he smiled. Returning her attentions as they continued, he felt his heart soar higher than it had in decades. He was in love, he had nearly forgotten the feeling. To trust another was something he had not been capable of for many years. His situation did not lend itself to trust or affection. Yet he had already fallen under the latter's spell. If he could learn to love again perhaps, in time, he could learn to trust as well. It had been so long since he had allowed anyone close, and Anne had gotten close enough to worry him, yet he had never worried less. They continued to dance contentedly in each other's arms, both pleasantly aware of their proximity, until the music ended.

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 **PS: The next chapter is going to be delayed a bit.**


	4. New Dawning

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, unfortunately. Matt Miller does, and so does someone else who's creation I stole a line from.**

 **AN: Hope you enjoy this chapter, the delay was a little more than I'd planned.**

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New Dawning

~1905~

Having contented himself into a life of bachelorhood, a comfortable lifestyle by all accounts, Henry was enjoying its freedoms. The New World was proving a good place for a new life, with so much expanse one could spend an eternity in the nation without worry of unfortunate encounters. But now was not the time to consider future travels, for now he was happily settled in New York City.

"I knew it was far too easy getting you here." The other doctor at his side noted as they watched the bodies moving about.

"Nonsense, James, I enjoy a good dance as much as the next man."

"Is this what passes for enjoying in England? Standing around, not dancing?"

"I have yet to see you out there."

"Ahh, but you know I can't dance. I know you can." Henry had long ago taken to acquainting himself with the dances of each changing era. They were simpler than those of his youth and in many ways more enjoyable, though he had to admit some part of him still founded in 18th century propriety was always scandalized as he wrapped his arm about a woman's waist.

"I have spent my entire life being the gentleman and fulfilling my duties as such at dances. This evening I intend to revel in the simple pleasure of watching." James gave him a look that clearly conveyed his opinion of this excuse. "Alright, I shall join the next dance." James smirked widely with satisfaction when briefly after Henry's promise the music changed, beginning the next dance. Henry sighed in exasperation at his friend, before setting off across the floor toward the woman James had had his eye on since entering. She was dressed in a yellow and white striped frock her red hair securely fastened in a pompadour, a few curling locks falling around her face. With a polite bow, which he had found was rarely used in America, he inquired. "May I have this dance, Miss?"

She turned to meet him with a wide, warm smile. "Of course." Taking the hand offered to her she walked with him onto the floor. With as little hesitation as he could manage he held her close and her left hand came to rest on his shoulder. They joined the ring of waltzing pairs. "How do you like it in America?" She inquired kindly, having noticed his prominent accent. He had found that women of this new century were bolder than those before them. Now they begin conversation soon they'll be chaining themselves to gates in protest; not that he disapproved of this advancement of their place, mind.

"Quite well, thank you. It is a unique country and very beautiful."

"Have you been here long?"

"Several years in total."

"Oh." She let out shortly. Her conversational inquires now seemed very silly indeed, she having been under the assumption of his recent arrival on American shores. "I- I-"

"It is quite understandable, Miss. I fear I shall be thought a recent import for some time to come."

A smile returned to her lips. "What do you do?"

"I'm a doctor."

"Oh. My my old neighbor was a doctor. A good lot, all of you."

"I'm sure I speak for all of my profession when I thank you for the compliment. If I may return it you are a lovely dancer."

"Thank you Doctor…"

"Do forgive my absence of manners. I have failed to introduce myself, Henry Morgan."

"I'll tell you mine but you must promise not to laugh."

"You have my word."

"Scarlett O'Hare." Admitted the fiery haired lady.

"It suites you." Henry assured politely, trying very hard not to let his smile grow any wider.

"You know, Henry." He blinked, surprised at the abrupt use of his given name. "You're quite the dancer too."

"Thank you."

"So where are you from?" He could give a hundred answers to this question, and each would be true in some capacity; but he had found that Americans were much harder to lie to, at times a troublesome trait.

"London, originally."

"Is it nice there? Do you ever get homesick?"  
"In the city, not so much as it used to be; but the countryside is charming. And sometimes I do, yes. But I just think of it as the big, damp, foggy island and I suddenly miss it less in comparison." They turned in silence for a moment, taking in the music and atmosphere. "I hear the hills of Ireland are quite stunning, your parents must miss them."

"How did you-?"  
"You retain a slight accent. You also work for a scotsman, you've picked up the harder 'r'. Susceptibility to accents is common in the children of immigrants."

"I'm a nanny on 91st; used to be a secretary there, a rather bad one. That was extraordinary, what you did, like you're Auguste Dupin."

"The result of many years of practice." The melody was now in its last hurrah, livening in pace and tune before it came to its end. "Miss O-" She gave him a stubborn look of warning and request. "Scarlett," he relented, mentally cursing Americans for their seeming ability to sway his judgement. "This dance has been very enjoyable, but I fear it is coming to an end. Before we part might I beg a favor?"

"Shoot."

"I have a friend here this evening who can't dance."

"Scarlett took full advantage of his pause. "And you want me to have a go at him."

"It is my belief that you would enjoy eachother's company. He is also an admirer of Poe's work. And is a fellow doctor."

She nodded her agreement to the proposition. When the song ended he led her over to where James stood. He'd appeared rather morose as he had watched the pair gliding around. He was unsure whether to be hopeful or furious when Henry approached, a satisfied smirk on his face and a beautiful woman on his arm, but he was leaning toward the latter.

"What are you smirking about?"

"Now now, James. Is that any way to talk to a friend who's done you a favor?"

"What would that be, Henry?"

"Scarlett, I would like you to meet Doctor James Carter. James, this is Miss Scarlett O'Hare."

"Nice to meet you, James."

James' mouth opened and closed for a moment like a fish, as he stared at the vision in front of him, before he was rescued. "Scarlett has agreed to dance with you."

"But-"

"I'll teach you." Scarlett said, anticipating his remark.

James' face had light up at her words and his eyes had grown clouded with dreams. "Henry, if I ever let this lady go, we're going to the card tables and I'll let you win."

"Sounds like I'll be needing someone to keep me occupied until such a time." Henry said, a smile reaching across his face.

"Let me take care of that." Scarlett assured, waving a dismissive hand toward Henry. "Marge," she called. A young woman with light brown hair came quick efficiency over in response to the summons.

When she arrived Henry was surprised to recognize her. "Nurse Templeton?"

"Doctor Morgan." Her eyes went wide in near mortification at running into a co-worker, much less one she was quite taken with.

Henry defused the tension quickly with a politely proffered hand and a slight bow. "Would you care to dance?"

"Yes." She replied, fast and breathlessly, accepting his hand and the two pairs headed out onto the dance floor.

"So, James, I hear you enjoy Poe."

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 **AN cont. : This is the first opportunity I've had to do this, since I've never had a fic with so much accidental trivia. Here's the offer, I'll write a one-shot for the first person to answer correctly all three questions.**

 **1\. Why did I spare you from a lot of Gone With the Wind references?** **2\. Who does Scarlett work for? 3. What was the stolen line and where did I get it from?**

 **Non-Americans may be at a bit of a disadvantage, sorry. I don't know whether this is handled via review or PM so you do what you think appropriate. I'd welcome your thoughts, while you're at it and if you're not.**


	5. Trodden Toes

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

 **AN: Happy (slightly belated) birthday Henry! I'm so sorry about how long this took to get written. But I hope you enjoy it.**

 **One more thing: this is suppose to occur shortly before the flashbacked scenes in 'Best Foot Forward', however I had to change the year because Ernest Hemingway was no longer in Paris by 1929.**

 **Again hope you enjoy and I would love to hear what you thought of it.**

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Trodden Toes

~1926~

Henry approached the door behind which the party was being held and already he knew he would not be enjoying the evening. In contrast Claudette, the ravishing young french girl who accompanied him, was already swaying in anticipation to the jazz music issuing from the apartment. The door opened at his first knock and the volume within was released. They walked through the entrance, which had been opened by no one in particular, and joined the bustling party. Winding through the crowd they brushed shoulders with the famous and soon-to-be-so of Paris. Off in a corner the Fitzgeralds were already making a rather drunken spectacle of themselves.

"Henri, you made it!" Valerie greeted before she was pulled back by whoever belonged to the arm she held.

Further in they ran into a lone Hemingway. "Hello, Ernest. Alone this evening I see."

"Evening, Henry. Yeah, going stag, sure I'll pick someone up. Lovely girl you've got there."

"Ernest…" Henry warned.

"I understand English quite well, Monsieur Hemingway. Zhank you for zhe compliment, you are very charming, but I am taken." Claudette ended, smiling shiningly at Henry. "Henri cheri, I'm going to talk to Helena, I'll find you before zhe first dance." She pecked him on the cheek before leaving. "Goodbye, Ernest." She added with a wave as she disappeared among the bodies.

Ernest let out a low whistle. "You're a lucky man, Henry."

"I know. How is Hadley, not ill I hope?"

"Nah, she's spending the evening home with little Jack. But I couldn't resist an invite to one of Valerie's soirees."

"And the prospect of women hanging off you in adoration, the charming American novelist?"

"Yeah." Ernest sighed, eyes going dreamy at the thought.

"Watch yourself, Ernest, one of these days it will cause you trouble."

"With the law? It's France."

"With your wife."

"Nothing comes of them. Besides, what do you know about marriage?"

"You'd be surprised. Before the war I was married." Not a complete lie, in fact it was mostly true.

"You cheat on her or something?"

"No. She thought I was crazy, left me, shot a woman, and died in prison of pneumonia."

"Someday you're gonna have to tell me the details of that story."

"Take it as a warning, never underestimate your wife."

"Henri, zhey're about to start zhe dance, come on." Claudette said, reappearing next to Henry and taking hold of his arm. She pulled at his willing form as they made their way to the dance floor.

To his luck the dance was the foxtrot, it was a simple old fashioned dance not as exuberant as others now popular. He was not generally good at the dances popular at the time, finding them as unstructured and unpredictable as the noise which dared be known as music. But the foxtrot had a moderate, almost classical, enough step that he could maneuver it to a satisfactory degree at the most ghastly and impromptu of tempos. Not to mention the one thing that he had found to be true through the various years was that very little could go wrong when traversing a dancefloor with a beautiful woman in one's arms. Claudette's shoes shuffled with his own, her head tilted to nearly rest upon his shoulder as she was held close to him. He'd had over a century to grow accustomed to the ever increasing proximity in dances, and her sheer allure dispelled any lingering feelings of impropriety replacing them with the confidence of desire.

When the song ended it was followed up by more wretched jazz music. His body stiffened in an involuntary cringe, causing Claudette to step back and look up at him with a glimmer of concern. As she looked, his face lit up with the dawning of inspiration. "Come on." Seizing her hand he led her through the crowd toward the motley crew that made up the band. It was a multinational mostly expatriate group: three Americans, and an Englishman joined the pair of Frenchmen in the making of the sounds.

"What can we do for you, Doc?" The Englishman asked from the raised platform as he approached. It took Henry a moment to realize where he knew the man from, he had been a soldier in a regiment Henry'd been attached to for awhile.

"Could you play some real music?"

"What do you think we're doin' here?" One of the American's asked, sounding rather insulted.

"Some Mozart, Bach, or Beethoven perhaps?"

"Any one of you heard of them guys?" The American asked his fellow band members, obviously trying to get back at Henry for insulting his music.

The majority shook their heads, backing their saxophonist. "Ain't they German fellas?" Another American added.

With a sigh Henry gave up on the effort. As he began to turn from the band , he was called. "Doc," The British guitarist called. "This isn't exactly the crowd for that Hun music. But I'll see what I can do for you later, when everyone's too drunk to know what they're dancing to any way."

"Thank you, Bentley."

"Least I could do, you saved my life after all." It was due to that occurrence that Bentley understood Henry's preference of classical melodies. With a final appreciative nod Henry led Claudette back through the crowd.

"You are so old fashioned, Henri." She commented, running an affectionate hand across his chest.

"Upbringing, I guess, all those strict manners and starched collars." She giggled at this description of so traditional a British upbringing, in such contrast to the free-spiritedness of France.

"Well we will have to unstarch that collar of yours, won't we." She teased. As though on cue the music began to play the dread Charleston, an energetic and multivariabled dance, and one which he was horribly inept at performing. He felt rather that this was an intentional blow from the disgruntled musicians. Nonetheless he found himself pulled by the ever-effervescent Claudette into the dance, if one could call it such. It was not as though the footwork was any more intricate than those of earlier times, but when put to music that lent no tempo or beats to follow he found his skills wanting. Successfully managing the first few repetitions of steps he soon lost the short-lived ability to deftly move his feet as expected. This resulted in the prompt treading on of toes.

"Ow!" Claudette yelped.

"Sorry." He cringed in apology.

"It's alright." She assured, through gritted teeth. She continued to favor the affected foot for awhile. The more he focused on trying to dance correctly, the worse it became.

Henry's attention was interrupted by a tapping on his shoulder. "Give it up, Henry." It was Hemingway, Henry turned to see the man. "You're hopeless, make way for those who've still got some." Henry was about to object to his rather rude intrusion, when Ernest spoke to Claudette. "Could I cut in, my lovely Mademuaselle?"

With a relieved expression Claudette smiled at the American and moved from Henry's arms. Giving him a momentarily apologetic look she side stepped him and put a hand on Hemingway's shoulder. "I don't mind, Ernest." Her smile broadened.

"You know I've always found Paris to be a feast of the senses, perhaps you would join me in enjoying it." Ernest wooed as the new pair picked up the dance, far more fluidly now.

"What a charming thing to say." Her voice came in a laughing, charmed tone as they disappeared together into the crowd, leaving Henry standing still and alone amongst the other bustling dancers.

Making his lonely way to the bar Henry took a seat and ordered a drink. He was halfway through his third drink, with disappointingly little effect, when he was joined in his solitude. "What's wrong, Henri? You look so unhappy." Valerie's concerned inquiry came.

"I had a beautiful girl, and I lost her to a charming American novelist." He lamented, finishing the drink and looking mournfully through the glass bottom. "Where's your partner?"

"Oh, he fell down drunk five minutes ago, zhey're dancing around him over zhere now." She said, waving a careless hand to indicate a particular area of the dance floor. When his gaze followed her hand he saw an area with a man shaped gap in the circumventing dancers. "Cheer up, Henri, zhere are plenty of women in Paris. And a man as handsome as you should have no problem finding anozher." She consoled, causing a wry smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. The music had reset to another variation of the Charleston by this time. "Come on, let's dance." Valerie urged, nudging into his shoulder.

"I'm afraid I've been found to be rather awful."

"Surely you can dance somezhing." She prompted.

"I am quite acquainted with the waltz."

"Of course you are. But can you manage it wizh zhis music?"

"Certainly, I could waltz to anything." He stood up from the stool and offered his hand to the hostess. "May I have the honor, my dear Valerie."

"My pleasure!" She answered, playing along cheerfully with the formality, as she slid from her seat, hand in his. Once on the edge of the dance floor they began to waltz. Slow at first, their turns escalated in pace to match the wild tempo of the music that blared in the background. The upbeat disorganization of tune was now happily freeing. Feet gliding easily in a waltz faster than any either had danced before, giddy grins grew on their faces.

* * *

 **PS: I have tried this and waltzing to Charleston music is totally possible and rather fun. (If you were curious)**


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